


Wrapped With a Bow

by Sundance201



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Romance, Suggestive Themes, series 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundance201/pseuds/Sundance201
Summary: Sherlock is not known for his good behavior at parties. Why should Rosie Watson's christening be any different?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly can't believe I'm posting something right now. But Molly's super cute outfit at the christening inspired me. There might be a smutty sequel coming - we'll see. I wanted to at least get this bit up before the episode airs tomorrow. Hope that you enjoy!

Molly tried to ignore Sherlock, who was standing in the corner, staring at her. His focus had been on his mobile for most of the christening, but now that they were back at the Watsons’ home, he seemed to be solely focused on…her. She was currently chatting with Mrs. Hudson, desperately trying to maintain some sort of calm as he continued to stare at her.

She heard Rosie’s cooing behind her and she turned quickly, coming face to face with Mary and her daughter. Grinning, she held out her hands for the baby, whom Mary gladly handed over. “How is our sweet little girl enjoying the party?”

Mary giggled, resting her chin on Molly’s shoulder. “She’s thrown up on John at least twice, so I’d say she’s having a marvelous time.” Molly snorted, rocking the baby back and forth. “About as marvelous as our dear hat detective over there.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “He’s acting so odd. Can’t take his eyes off his phone for hours and now he can’t take his eyes off…”

“Of you? He’s staring, babes. Everyone’s noticed.” She nudged Molly, stepping in front of her and taking Rosie back. “Go on,” she coaxed, nudging her again.

Molly sighed and straightened her jumper, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as she felt they were as she made her way across the room to Sherlock. “Cold?” he asked, once she was closer to him.

“What?”

“Are you cold? You’re fiddling with your jumper.”

She shrugged. “No. A bit warm, actually. Was wearing the jumper just for…propriety, I suppose. At the church. But now that we’re inside and there’s all these people, I’m overheating just a bit.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Take it off then.” She shivered, but definitely not from the temperature. He held out his hand and Molly, almost without thinking about it, shed the jumper and handed it over to him. He draped it over the railing behind him and turned his full attention back to her. “Better?”

She nodded and grinned shyly at him. “Yeah. Thanks.”

* * *

 

‘Well. That was idiotic,’ the John Watson voice inside of Sherlock’s head berated him. ‘Really very subtle, Sherlock. You might as well just strip her bare right here and now.’

He suppressed a growl as Molly made some inane comment about how nice this was – the christening or the party or something. He wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was drinking in the sight of Molly Hooper’s collarbones and shoulders and neck, now bare thanks to the disposal of her cardigan. The coral-red of her lips echoed the flowers on her dress – the ivory of her dress was so similar to the ivory of her skin.

He cleared his throat and Molly looked up at him, her eyes twinkling and her smile bright. “I need some air,” he said suddenly. He caught a glimpse of Molly’s bewildered expression just before he started for the door.

Once outside, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and longed for a cigarette. Mary had made him promise to stop, especially when he was around Rosie. But he needed something to take the edge off, something to distract him from Molly’s glossy lips, her slender and pale neck, the coral bow wrapped around her tiny waist…

He groaned and banged his head back against the brick behind him, his eyes clenching shut. He heard the door open and then close, the soft clicking of heels as Molly moved close to him. His jaw tightened. “Are you alright, Sherlock? You’re acting strangely.”

“I need a fucking cigarette,” he growled and his eyes flew open, in time to see Molly’s shocked expression at his vulgar language. “All these people, the infernal chattering…Rosie’s an infant, she won’t even remember any of this. The entire tradition is idiotic, as most traditions are.” He was just winding himself up, preparing for a good, long rant, when Molly’s hand landed on his arm and Sherlock immediately shut his mouth.

“What’s really bothering you?”

He scoffed. He didn’t try to remove her hand. “Nothing is bothering me, Molly. Just leave me be and go back inside.”

She shook her head and, much to his chagrin, took a step forward. “You’ve been acting strangely all day. You acted like it didn’t even matter that you are Rosie’s godfather and you were more interested in your mobile than anything else. Then once we got here you couldn’t…you kept staring at…me.”

Molly took a deep breath and Sherlock watched with interest as she looked up and met his gaze, straight on, waiting for his reply. He nodded, unable and unwilling to deny it. “Yes. I was.”

“Why?”

“Do you have any idea how alluring you look today, Molly?” he asked, answering her question with another. Molly blushed and Sherlock immediately raised a hand to cup her reddened cheek. “So tempting…your hair swept up, baring your neck to me…your jumper was covering up all this skin that’s now so freely on display…” The hand on her cheek traveled down her neck, across her collarbone.

“Don’t be cruel, Sherlock,” Molly whispered, still maintaining eye contact. His hand dropped away from her at the warning. “I couldn’t bear you being this cruel. Don’t lie to me.”

“Am I lying, Molly Hooper?” he asked seriously, returning her stare with the same intensity.

“I can’t tell.”

“That’s the lie. You can always tell when I’m lying, Molly.” He stepped away from the side of the house, bringing himself just that much closer to her. “Am I lying to you?” he repeated.

She shook her head slowly. “No. You’re not.”

His hand raised again and this time, his fingers trailed along the wide coral bow at her waist. His hand spread wider as he reached her back, his palm flat against her and suddenly pressing her towards him. “Why now?” she whispered, her hands coming up between them and resting on his chest. Not pressing at all, just merely placed there.

Shrugging, Sherlock tilted his head slightly. “Seeing John and Mary with their offspring has my biological clock ticking?” Molly rolled her eyes and giggled, pushing playfully against his chest. But she didn’t move out of his loose, one-armed embrace. His free hand came up and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, the backs of his fingers straying to her cheek. “Because I want you, Molly. And I’m tired of denying it.”

“And you couldn’t have picked a more appropriate location than our goddaughter’s christening to realize this?” Molly asked, a naughty smirk on her face.

Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “I blame the dress. You look like a little present, wrapped up in a bow and all I could think about was unwrapping you.”

“So it’s my fault?” she said incredulously, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Well, let me tell you, Sherlock Holmes-”

But she didn’t get to finish her sentence because Sherlock leaned in and kissed her. Molly immediately melted into his embrace, causing him to stumble backwards towards the wall again. Her fingers wrapped around the lapel of his suit, as she leaned against him fully. She moaned softly against his lips and Sherlock, in response, tightened his grip on her, tugging her closer.

His hands traveled up her back and he readjusted his position slightly, so his fingers could skim across her shoulder blades. She squirmed against him and raised her arms, hooking her wrists around the back of Sherlock’s neck, resting her arms on his shoulders. They broke apart for a moment. Staring at one another, they panted, not quite sure what to say.

“We were taking bets as to where you’d gone off to,” Mary’s voice said from inside the house, breaking the moment. Molly made to jump back, but Sherlock’s hands kept her in place against him. They both turned to look at Mary. “Greg thought you’d be smoking together; John thought you’d be getting a scolding, Sherlock; and Mrs. Hudson thought you’d be just going at it in the garden.” Molly couldn’t help the surprised giggle that escaped her and Sherlock even snorted at that particular prediction.

“I, of course, was the closest. Said you’d be snogging his face off, Molly.”

“Very perceptive of you, Mrs. Watson. But if you don’t mind, I believe that Molly and I have somewhere to be.” Sherlock tugged on Molly’s hand, but she didn’t budge.

“Sherlock, we are not leaving Rosie’s party to go and…do whatever it is you think we’re going to do.” His eyes sparkled and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve got to show some sort of self-control. We’re her godparents, for heaven’s sake!” She could tell that he was about to argue with her, so she leaned towards him, her heels putting her at the perfect height to whisper in his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while if you stay.”

She moved backwards, giving him space, and indulged in the blank look on his face as he processed her words. A rather lascivious grin spread across his face as he grabbed Molly’s hand, this time heading towards the door, where Mary was still standing, looking pleased as punch. “Must be about time for Rosie’s nap, isn’t it, Mary? It’s been quite the busy day!” he announced loudly, suddenly on a mission to find the little girl.

Mary grabbed Molly as she moved past her and she simply grinned at her friend. “I told you that get-up would knock his socks off.”


End file.
